


Tremor

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: Dissassociation [29]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Accepting, Angst, Dark, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, I guess a follow up to transmission maybe??, Manipulation, Phone Calls, Spur of the moment idea, Static!Anti, Suspicion, Threats, Whump, imitation, knife, was gonna be Mark but I changed my mind, whoops my hand slipped, worried friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: “. . .[Anti’s eyes] glitter dangerously; they say that they’ve won, that theyownhim.-he isn’t about to endanger one of his friends like that.So, Jack stays quiet.”





	Tremor

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno this idea struck me like five minutes ago - mostly a certain line/idea, and I’ve been wanting to try my hand at Ego stuff lately so here you go I guess, lol.
> 
> Short piece; not my best but I had an idea and rolled with it, so I consider that an accomplishment.

     The knife is pressed against his neck, cold metal dangerously close, so much so that he can’t risk swallowing or he’ll get nicked again. The hand not holding the knife is gripping his arm and it feels  ~~ _familiar_~~ far more uncomfortable than the knife.

    He’s not sure what he’s done now; his phone lays on the table, where it fell from his hands. The screen is lit with a text, brightening as a second one follows through.

 

**Wade**

_[Hey, dude can we talk?]_

_read at ‰§:42 pm_

_[Hello?]_

_read at ₽£:45 pm_

_[I guess I’ll just call you]_

_delįvęred_

   Jack feels himself trembling, and closes his eyes tight as that mocking voice whispers, “ _Don’t say a word._ ”

   He can’t even nod, but it doesn’t matter. He proves compliant as he tries to stay stock-still.

 

    Then, the phone rings.

     It’s Wade; his icon lights up on the screen. A smiling face from a candid photo one of the times they had all been together - that’s what he keeps most their icons as. Happy moments from memories well-made. He’s trying to figure out what he’ll say to Wade about ignoring the phone call, when, to his horror, the screen glitches and his friend’s voice fades through.

    “Uh, hey Jack! How’s it going?”

    And then, _it_ speaks.

    “Wade!” It’s his voice, _his_ voice; a perverse replica with the same tone and style. “How’s it going, dude? Sorry I didn’t answer right away - I was busy taking a sh-.”

    Jack can almost hear amusement in its voice, though whether it’s to Wade reacting accordingly, or how much Anti must know that it disturbs him, he’s unsure.

    “Ah, gross man! TMI. Anyways I was just, uh, checking in. You seemed a little off yesterday, y’know? I was just worried I guess.”

    Jack swallows, trying not to cry, and earns blood as the blade scrapes against his throat. But he could care less about the superficial cut. Wade sounds so _sincere_ , so _caring_. Wade has _**no**_ _**idea**_ what’s going on. He wants to choke out a cry, tell him what’s going on, get _help_.

    But-

he sees Anti’s grin from the corner of his eye, those glinting green eyes watching him intently as he speaks with a stolen voice, a perverted mockery of himself in so many ways

they glitter dangerously; saying they’ve won, that they _own_ him. 

-he isn’t about to endanger one of his friends like that.

    So, Jack stays quiet.

    When the call is over, and the phone hung up, Anti pats his cheek, the one with the knife still in hand. The voice could almost be described as crooning with a soft chuckle.

    “ _Good job. You actually know how to listen, Seànny-boy_.”

     He goes to bed tremoring that night and holding back sobs.


End file.
